The New Guy
by Mr-Herp-Derp
Summary: With a new rush of imaginary friends at the home, Frankie's been under a lot of stress lately. Then comes Bob, a man who wants to work at Foster's. He's allowed in strictly because of the sheer amount of work. Frankie befriends him, but what happens when the man's past catches up with him? Can Bob overcome the threat of his past or will it cause him more pain and suffering?
1. The Extra Body

My first, and maybe only, Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends story. A man comes to the home, offering to be an extra hand in taking care of things. With the increasing number of imaginary friends coming to the home, Madam Foster agrees. But what happens when this man's past begins to catch up with him?

Chapter one.

The Extra Body.

Frankie Foster finally found a chance to sit down and take a breather. This job certainly was getting to be more stressful, what with all the new friends coming in, but she loved her grandmother too much to quit. Plus, where else could she go? And who else to drive the Foster bus? Besides, some of these Imaginary friends had grown on her, and some under her skin. This job certainly had its stressful days, but no job was perfect, she figured. As she watched TV, the doorbell rang. She sighed, before getting up and putting on a face that didn't suggest she was already tense.

She opened the door, and looking back at her was another person. He was a bit taller than her, with brown hair. He looked to be about her age, and he wore a white button down shirt. Also, he wore a black belt, with khaki pants and black shoes. His face was bearing a pair of glasses, and his eyes were green.

"No," he said, "I'm no imaginary friend, but before you shut the door in my face, I'd like you to hear me out." What boldness. He didn't try to pretend to be an imaginary friend, but still wanted to talk to Frankie. She found herself unable to shut the door in his face, as much as Mr. Herriman would have urged it upon her. She leaned against the doorway, and gestured for him to continue.

"I know this place is family owned and ran," he began, "but maybe you might need an extra hand around here." That made Frankie think. This job was getting more stressful, so maybe an extra hand may not be a bad thing. Of course, Madame Foster ran the place, so she made the choices. She didn't know what her granny would say, but the worst of it would be no.

"Follow me," said Frankie. She led the man into the house, and to Madame Foster's office. She could hear Mr. Herriman talking to her, but she knocked anyway.

"Who is it?" came her grandmother's voice.

"Frankie," she called, "you got a minute?"

"Silly girl," said Foster, "I always have time for you, come in." She opened the door, and told her companion to follow in. Their eyes went straight to him.

"Ms. Frances," said Herriman, "If he's not an imaginary friend, he has to leave."

"He isn't," said Frankie, "but he wants to be hired."

"Now hang on," said Madame Foster, "I don't just hire anyone with a face. You gotta convince me why you're special, son."

"To do that," he said, "I'd have to tell you a bit of my life story."

"I love stories," said Foster, "take a seat and tell me." He sat down in one of the chairs in front of Madame's desk.

"You see," he stated, "it all began when I was a young lad. I had no friends, and my Mom had to work two jobs to keep me alive. I had no father, and got picked on a lot at school. When I imagined my imaginary friend, named Joe, who was strong, kind, and smart, all that turned around.

"I started having more friends, and got picked on less, because Joe would come to my rescue. He even helped my Mom meet the man that soon became my step father, and he pulled us out of our bare hover over poverty. Joe had helped us all.

"So I grew up, and Joe would have moved with me. Then I saw a young boy, who was being picked on by some bullies. I saw myself in this boy, and I looked to Joe. 'You helped me,' I said, 'now help someone else.' He was sad, but understood. He chased away the bullies, and right away, he and the boy clicked.

"So I'd like to find imaginary friends for other kids who need one." It took a moment for the story to sink in.

"Well," said Foster, after a few minutes, "we'd normally turn you away. But since we're having a lot more friends lately, we need an extra hand. Welcome aboard." She looked to her grand daughter, "Frankie, show this young man around." Frankie nodded, and led the man through the house.

"My name is Frankie," she said, extending her hand toward him, "and you are?"

"Name's Bob." He said, shaking her hand, and together they explored the house.


	2. Shown the Ropes

Shown the Ropes.

Frankie led Bob down the seemingly endless hallways of Foster's. She'd lived here for basically her whole life, and she knew the place like the back of her hands. She had this advantage over Bob, who was no doubt going to get lost from time to time. Which reminded her,

"Bob," she said, "something just came to me: Do you have a place to live?"

"A rather strange question," said Bob, "but the answer is yes. Why?"

"If you need to live here," she said, "we can make that arrangement."

"Well," said Bob, "thank you for telling me. If I lose my apartment in a fire or some other home losing factor, I'll move in here." Frankie smiled at his joke, and they continued their trek. Suddenly, what seemed like a red giant came to them.

He had red fur, with a red and white one on his chest. His eyes were long, like a crab's eyes. One of them stood straight, with the pupil doing its job, and the other was bent, crooked, with the pupil rolling around like a marble in a glass. He had a long arm on his left with a red, white, and blue wristband, and the other arm was merely a stub.

"Hey, Frankie," he hailed them, "who's your friend?"

"This is Bob," she said, gesturing to him, "he's just been hired."

"Hi Bob," said the red giant, extending his hand to Bob, "I'm Wilt."

"Nice to meet you, Wilt." Said Bob. Wilt excused himself, saying he had to clean up a vase that fell to the floor nearby. So as Frankie and Bob continued, they were greeted by another friend. It was like a bird, with a wacky green hair do. Its body looked something like a plane.

"Coco?" it asked Bob.

"No thank you." She repeated the Mantra of Coco,

"Her name is Coco," said Frankie, "and that's really her language." Bob introduced himself, and Coco excused herself.

Suddenly, they were greeted by a boy.

"Hey, Frankie," he hailed the woman, "who's this?"

"This is Bob," and Frankie knew she would be introducing him quite a lot, "he's working here now." Bob got down on a knee to shake the boy's hand.

"I'm Mac," said the boy, then noticed the massive scars on the equally massive hands that belonged to Bob, "Wow, your hands are huge, and covered in scars. Do you Box?"

"Smart lil' dude," said Bob, "I do box. Keeps me young and fit." The boy was soon joined by a what looked like a blue bullet.

"Hey Frankie," he said to her, "who's your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend," said Frankie, a bit assertively. The bullet smirked, and continued to tease her.

"You two are cute together." Frankie was starting to get unglued, as evidenced by the glare she gave him. Bob gathered that he pulled this crap all the time.

"You don't even know me," said Bob, "why treat me like I'm a buddy you can just dump that kind of crap on?" This made the bullet stop dead, before walking away uneasily.

"You'll have to forgive Bloo," said Mac, "he's kind of a smart alek, and tends to take things too far. He's a comedian that don't know when to stop being funny, but he's not so much a comedian." Bob nodded, as Frankie continued the tour.

...

A few hours later, Bob had seen the whole of the house, and met a plethora of imaginary friends. His feet felt like spikes had invaded his shoes, his brow was matted with sweat bullets, and he felt like he just ran a marathon. Frankie chuckled slightly.

"You'll get used to it," she told him, comfortingly. "Before you leave, can you give us some contact information? Phone number, email, things like that." Bob wrote the requested information on a form given by the green jacket clad woman, and then said his goodbyes, promising to be back bright and early tomorrow. Frankie warned him that he should avoid wearing fancy clothing to work, and that casual was the dress code.

...

Henry Jensen sat in the apartment, over a box of pizza that had just been delivered when he heard the deadbolt turn. The door swung open and there stood Bob. He looked like he just outran a T-Rex, with his sweaty brow, heavy breathing, and sluggish movements. He locked the door behind him and dropped his key in the keybowl.

"Hey," said Henry. Henry was a rather plump man, with short legs, bulgy kneecaps, fat arms, and a head with a mop curly red hair. He loved to give friends a hard time, and make jokes. He even made jokes about his own bulk.

"Yo," said Bob, his usual greeting towards Henry. He sat down at the table, and grabbed a slice of pizza, having it down the hatch in seconds flat.

"Wow," said the red headed man, "and I thought I was hungry. You get the job?"

"Yeah," said Bob, working into his second slice, nearly making every bite his last. With a few slices of Pizza under his belt, Bob began to feel less worn out. He showered, got into his pajamas, and went to bed. Tomorrow he would start work at his new job, and he hoped that this would give him the restart he so desperately needed.


	3. The First Day on the Job

The First Day on the Job.

"Where's my money, you piece of ****?" Demanded his attacker, slamming his head into a wall.

"I swear," he pleaded, "I'll have it to you by next week."

"That's what you said last week," the attacker kicked him in the gut as he tried to get up, "and the week before that. You're not fooling me with that again. Oh, I get it." He grabbed his victim's hair, and yanking him so they were face to face. "You think I'm _stupid_, is that it?"

"No," the man pleaded. He felt a tugging, and before the attacker could hit him again, he woke up.

"Bro," said a voice, which filled him with relief. It was Henry.

"Good morning," said Bob, but Henry wasn't there for that,

"You were screaming again," he said, "is it the nightmares?"

"Yeah," said Bob. Henry gave him a look, "what?"

"You need to talk to me," he said, "I have a degree in psychology, I can help you."

"I've told you," said Bob, "I can't tell you. It's secret." Henry obviously didn't agree with Bob's logic but shrugged it off. Bob looked at the clock. No point in going back to sleep, he had to shape up and ship out. Frankie never established a specific time for him to show up, but she did tell him to be early.

Bob showered, and dressed in blue jeans, a black T-Shirt, and brown sneakers. He grabbed a few slices of the pizza on his way out.

"Bye," he called to his roommate as he left.

...

He pulled up to Foster's and walked in. Frankie was sweeping the foyer when she saw him.

"Good," she said, "you're here." Suddenly, a voice came from the old fashioned PA system,

"Miss Francis," it was the voice of Mr. Herriman, "There is a mess in the kitchen. You and Mister Bob get it cleaned up." Frankie sighed.

"I don't know how many times I've told him,"" she said, "my name is Frankie. Well, let's get started." So Frankie and Bob set out to clean the kitchen.

It certainly was a mess. Globs of goo everywhere, identified by the smell as peanut butter. It stuck to the floor, the walls, cupboards, and even some on the ceiling. Bob grabbed a mop and a bucket while Frankie grabbed a sponge and a bucket of hot water. She grabbed a step ladder and climbed it, scrubbing a cupboard.

Meanwhile, Coco laid an Egg, and Eduardo opened it. Inside was a toy truck, complete with a bed one could flip up. She laid another egg, and in this one was a remote control. Eduardo set the truck down and began to fiddle with the remote. He didn't know that upon a touch of a button, or the moving of one of the sticks, that the truck would go around and do whatever it darn pleased.

The truck rolled into the kitchen, unseen by Bob and Frankie. It rolled around the gooey globs of peanut butter, and under Frankie's stepladder. It shot its bed up with such force, the stepladder became a catapult, launching her like a lawn dart. She was caught off guard, and let out a yelp, like anyone who was suddenly thrown. Bob looked up, to see her flying through the air towards the ground.

"Frankie!" He cried, and caught her. There was an awkward moment. He was holding Frankie bridal style. She had grabbed what she could get her hands on for support, and grabbed onto his neck. Not in a choking fashion, but more of a holding on sort of way. Bob rather liked carrying her like this, not knowing why. Frankie didn't mind being held this way. Both stared at each other, blushing heavily. Neither of them knew how to react.

"Ummm," said a voice; the voice of Bloo, "Why are you holding her like that?" Bob set her down, and faced Bloo,

"She fell," he said, "I caught her." They could see mischief in his gaze. Bob reached into his pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill, which Bloo stared at,

"If you keep this under your hat," said the man, "I'll make it worth your while." Bloo nodded, taking the money and leaving. Putting it into his pocket, he smirked,

"I don't have a hat."

...

Meanwhile, Frankie and Bob were still cleaning the kitchen, with a tiny dent made in the mess, when one of the Imaginary friends came by.

"Frankie," he said, "I never knew you liked being swept off your feet." She raised an eyebrow to him.

"What are you talking about?" she asked him.

"Letting the new guy carry you like that, it must be love at first sight." Frankie was furious,

"BLOO!" she shouted, so loudly that nearly everyone in the house heard it. Bloo was the only one who did not hear it, as he was too busy talking to Mac about what he had seen.

"Bloo," said Mac, knowing what was happening as soon as Frankie yelled, "You just told everyone in the house a lie."

"My eyes saw it," Bloo insisted, "Bob is trying to get in on it with Frankie, and Frankie isn't doing anything to discourage it."

"I'm sorry," said Wilt sternly, who came in behind him, "but that is definitely not okay. You just ruined Frankie's reputation." At this moment, Frankie stormed in.

"You are so dead," said Frankie, her voice unsteady with anger. Bob came in shortly after, and he wasn't too happy either.

"I gave you MONEY," said Bob, "I paid you for your silence, but since you didn't live up to your promise, give me my money back." Bloo handed it back to him. Madame Foster and Mr. Herriman were also mad at him.

"For your punishment," said Herriman, "you're going to finish cleaning the kitchen." Bloo spent the rest of the day, sulking as he cleaned the Peanut Butter, and it was later found that he was the one that made it happen in the first place. He was sent to bed without dinner.

...

Later that day, Bob returned to his apartment. He was greeted by Henry.

"Someone came by today," he said.

"Who was it?" asked Bob.

"He was dodging my questions," said Henry, "he insisted that someone named Steven Heartstrudder lived here." Had he been paying attention, Henry would have noticed a flash of nervousness in Bob's face.

"What did he want?" asked Bob, his voice shaking.

"He just said he was looking for that person, and that he _knew _he was here. Do you know someone by that name?" Bob sighed. He knew he couldn't keep this away from Henry anymore; he was now involved, and therefore in danger.

"What I'm about to tell you," said Bob, in a serious tone, "never leaves this room. Okay?" Henry nodded, glad that Bob was finally letting him in on the secret. "That is my real name, Steven Heartstrudder. Let's just say that as a child, trying to raise money for my family, I got mixed up in the wrong crowd." As Bob kept talking, Henry knew he could never look at him the same way again.

"I just remembered," said Henry, "we're low on some groceries. Let's get them, since neither of us have anything going on right now." Bob agreed, and the pair drove off towards the store.


	4. A home up in flames

A home up in flames.

The night was wearing on, and Henry and Bob had finished their shopping. They bought a little more food, some toiletries, and a bundle of tissue boxes, as they were running low, and Bob had allergies in the summer.

"We got what we need?" asked Henry,

"I think s- oh my god!" Bob pointed forward, to a smokestack. It was in the direction they were heading.

"Is that-" Henry began,

"I really hope not." said Bob. Henry slammed on the pedal, and they shot down the road. They soon arrived, and their worst fears were realized. The Shady Beach Apartment complex, and the parking garage next to it, were up in flames. Bob and Henry leapt from the car after it was parked and ran to it, only to be restrained by firemen.

"It doesn't look like," said one of them, "this is going to be put out until it's all embers. Our hoses haven't even slowed it down." And as if on cue, with a loud crash, and another sound resembling a giant's plate being smashed to bits, the apartment and its sister parking garage, were now rubble and flaming embers. As if the fire had had its fun, the Firemen were able to put it out.

...

Bob sat away from the ruins, alone. He had a feeling this was somewhat his fault, for the man looking for him had connections. Henry came to him.

"I swear," he said into his cellphone, "I'll be out as soon as I find a new place. What? Hold on a minute." He pulled the phone away from his ear, "do you need to stay with me and my brother?" Right after he said that, a huge multicolored bus pulled up. The door opened, and in the driver's seat sat a red headed woman. She wore a green jacket, with a white T-Shirt and a blue skirt.

"Bob," she said, "I came as soon as I found out what happened. I heard your apartment's name on the news and came over. I'm sorry to hear it. Get in, you don't have anyplace to live, and the room and boarding at Foster's is still on the table." Bob tried to decline, but Frankie wouldn't take no for an answer. Finally, Bob said goodbye to Henry, and climbed aboard the bus.

"Wait," said Henry. "before you go, take these." He handed Bob the boxes of tissues, before getting into his car and driving off.

"Did he just steal your car?" asked Frankie,

"No," said Bob, "my car was in the garage." Frankie got out of her seat and hugged him sympathetically.

Bob knew that those who were after him weren't going to give up so easily. When his mangled and burned corpse was not found, and his face not in the obituaries, they'd know they burned the building for nothing, and find him elsewhere.

He knew that him living in Foster's would put everyone in it in the firing line. He contemplated his options. A, live at Foster's and wait for them to find him and make collateral damage of everyone there. And B, try and sneak out, thus saving everyone's butts. He chose the latter. Why should his new found friends suffer when it was _him_ the bad guys were after? The Answer: They shouldn't.

...

The next night, and Bob was ready. This job hadn't given him the restart he needed. They'd found him again, and he was once again back at square one. He snuck down stairs, and reached for the doorknob.

"And where do you think you're going?" asked a voice, which shattered the silence. Bob jumped, and he looked to where the voice had come from. It was Madame Foster.

"I was just-" Bob began, but she cut him off,

"You're not allowed to leave at this time. We have curfew around here. If you break that rule, everyone's going to know." Bob found it hard to believe, and so he turned the knob. Apparently, he wasn't the first to try and sneak out. As soon as he had just barely turned the knob, an extremely loud alarm sounded. He guessed it could wake everyone in the house. But before any angry friends came down, Foster hit a switch, and the sound stopped.

...

The following day, Bob and Frankie went to the park. Madame Foster told them they needed to get some groceries, and they decided to stop here to take a breather.

"So Bob," said Frankie, "why did you try to leave last night?"

"How did you know it was me?"

"Everyone but you," she said, "knows that Madame Foster isn't fond of people sneaking out at bedtime. Now answer the question." Bob was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He wanted to tell Frankie, but wasn't obliged to. Thankfully, he was saved from having to do so. A man with a disfigured face came around to the people in the park. He'd been a war hero, and had been shot in the face several times. Everyone he went to showed their thanks for what he did by giving him money.

Bob and Frankie opened their wallets to him when he came by. When suddenly, a different man came to them. He wore a leather jacket with leather pants to match. Black boots and a mean looking face completed the outfit. It was clear he was up to no good.

"You gave him money," said the man, gravely voice, "now how about some for me."

"Sorry," said Frankie, "I used up my last spare dollar." The man didn't take that sitting down, he forcefully grabbed her arm,

"Give me that damn money," Frankie got equally mad and punched the man in the face.

"Big mistake, bitch." He said, and threw her to the ground. Bob wasn't about to sit and watch this man hurt his friend.

"Hey," He said, standing up, "leave her alone." The man turned from Frankie, who was on the ground in pain.

"You want some of this?" he demanded. Bob answered by raising his fists queensbury rules. The man lunged, but Bob ducked and punched the man in the gut. The man yelped, as he recoiled, which gave Bob time to uppercut him.'

"No more Mr. Nice Guy," Yelled the man as he threw a kick at Bob's head. He grabbed the attacker's foot and held it up, leaving him vulnerable for a punch to the groin. Soon, he had the man reduced to a quivering piece of jelly. He came to Frankie and asked if she was okay.

"Yeah," she said, "just need a minute." Bob helped her to her feet and gently set her on the bench.

"Where did you learn that?" she asked him,

"I box to keep fit," said Bob, "and it has its positive side effects."

"Could you teach me?" she asked him,

"I don't see why not," said the man, "just remember that I can't be held responsible if you get hurt." Frankie agreed, and so when she was okay again, they went back to Foster's.

...

When they returned, Madame Foster was the first they saw, and Frankie was a sight to behold. She had a black eye, bruises all around her face, and a fat lip.

"What happened?!" she asked, bewildered.

"Some guy attacked us," said Frankie, "but Bob fought him off. I asked him to teach me to Box."

"Thank you for helping her." said Foster.

...

They found a room in Foster's with plenty of room to roam, and secluded so no one could accidentally walk in trying to find the bathroom.

"First," said Bob, "I want to see how hard you can punch." He held his hand up and braced himself, and tapped his hand, "picture my hand as something that makes you angry, and strike it." Frankie imagined the man who attacked them just hours ago. She balled her fist, pulled it back, and let it fly. Her hand bounced off of Bob's thumb, and hit him in a different area: His face. He recoiled, cupping his hands over his offended nose.

"Oh my god!" Cried Frankie, "I'm sorry."

"Do you have a lot of built up anger?" he asked her, blood dripping between his fingers. Frankie got him some tissues, and he managed to get the bleeding to stop. "Now that we've gauged how hard you can punch, let's go over the proper stance." Bob moved Frankie's arms and legs as if she was a mannequin in a department store. Her left leg was out in front, her right in the back. Her arms here held up like she was really about to box somebody.

"Put more weight on your back leg," said Bob, "so you can lunge into a punch." After a while, she was in the stance he wanted her in, the same one his teacher put him in. Bob grabbed a foam block, as wide as a car door.

"Let's pretend this is your foe," said Bob, "have at him." Frankie lunged forward, but accidentally kneed herself in the back of her left knee, and started to fall. Bob dropped the foam block and caught her. They stood, toe to toe, hip to hip, breast to chest. They were so close, they could feel their breath on each other's faces. Another awkward moment between them, also accidental.

"Are you okay?" asked Bob.

"I'll live," said Frankie. They eventually pulled away, blushing madly.

A lot has happened in this chapter so I'll cut it here. But now I'm out of ideas. If somebody has one, please send it my way.


	5. Mourning Lost Ones

Mourning Lost Ones

Frankie grabbed the keys to the bus and headed to the door. She had gotten into the habit of doing this awhile back. Her solemn face told everyone who saw it she was doing something very personal and close to her heart. No one, not even Bloo, dared to joke about it, that's how much it meant to her. She hopped into the driver's seat, and started the engine, as it purred to life.

She'd expected to see Bob and have him ask her what she was doing, but she hadn't seen hide nor hair of him at all today. Their boxing lessons were still in effect, and she was getting much better at it too, nearly rivaling Bob, though he swore he was just an ameture who only used it for keeping fit and self defence.

She soon arrived at her destination: a graveyard. She parked the bus and walked in. She saw a figure, clad in a green shirt and blue jeans, with white sneakers, and brown hair. She approached it: It was Bob. He was kneeling before a headstone which read,

"Beatrice Heartstrudder

Beloved Mother."

"Good morning Mom," he said to it, "did you sleep well?" He paused, like he was waiting for a response. "Good. I haven't been able to sleep all that much, despite having a cozy room with lots of new clothes, thanks to Madame Foster. I had insisted there was no need, that I would do it myself, but she was firm that she provide me with that wardrobe. But I digress. Those guys are still after me, and I fear that me living at that home will put those inside it in danger.

"I have tried to leave, but they won't let me. I work there, mind, I guess you could say I'm a live in servant." He continued talking. Frankie didn't know what he was going on about, and assumed it a cover story for trying to sneak out. He soon stood, and eyed Frankie.

"Whoa!" He cried, but then calmed down, "how much did you hear of that?"

"I heard enough," said Frankie, "How did you lose her?"

"She was murdered on my graduation day," said Bob, wiping away a tear, "and my father died in a car accident the day I was born."

"I'm so sorry," said Frankie, "but there's something I want to show you." She led him further into the graveyard. The pair was soon standing before a set of Headstones. The first one read.

"Fredrick Foster.

Husband

Father

Soldier"

The second one read,

"Franchesca Foster

Mother

Wife."

Bob looked them over.

"I came to pay my respects to my parents," she said, "I didn't know about their deaths until I was eighteen. Before then I was told they had gone on a vacation and were still gone. My grandmother never lied to me so I always believed it. Then, on my eighteenth birthday, I found I'd been had. It was in my parents' will that I watch a video tape of them telling me that if they died early, that they would want me to grow up and be happy.

"I was a baby when they died, so I didn't remember them. I grew up around many of the friends, and thus I became very attached the the business and that's how I got where I am today. A few days later, I made a pact that I would visit their graves regularly." Bob could see shining tears on Frankie's face. He dared to put his arm around her shoulder. She set her head on his shoulder, and started to cry.

He continued to hold her, and she wept over her parents. No longer were they just friends, both could tell. They were now very close to each other, dare they say best friends. Frankie found somebody who had lost their parents tragically as well. They could relate to one another, aside from their love of imaginary friends.

For a while, Bob and Frankie stood like this, in this embrace. People who saw assumed he was helping her over a loss, and to a point, he was. Finally, Frankie released him, and dried her tears.

"We should go back," she said, "but first, I need a moment alone." Bob nodded, and waited for her on a bench. After a while, she came to him, and he drove home, and she drove the bus back to the home.

…

The pair arrived back at the home, and began their boxing lesson. It had gone from going over stances, to punch practice, and now to sparring. Frankie remembered Bob's lessons on bobbing and weaving, and they payed off well. She claimed Bob as an excellent teacher, but he wouldn't hear it.

Little did Frankie know that she would get a chance to use her new skills for real. The following day, they were at the store. They were buying some more groceries, when all of a sudden, a man burst in the door, with a machete.

"Everyone," he yelled, "this is a robbery, do as I say and nobody gets hurt, all right? Now everyone on the ground." Frankie did not heed, she charged it him with her fists raised and punched his hand so hard he dropped the machete. He turned and tried to kick her, but she weaved away from it and punched him in the nose. He recoiled, and Frankie darted forward and punched him in the throat. He gagged, and with another punch to his head, Frankie had the man knocked out. Police soon arrived and arrested him before he even woke up.

People hailed her as a hero, and the store allowed her and Bob to take the groceries for free as a reward for saving them.

Frankie has used her boxing skills to fend off a robber. Will she be able to use them again? One way to find out. And who are the Men Bob mentioned to his mother?


	6. Things Take A Turn (For The Worst)

Things take a turn...For The Worst.

It was a normal day at Foster's. Mac had come over to visit Bloo as per the norm. His crush on Frankie was still active, but today, he would be shot down. When Bloo was off playing video games with Wilt, he went to talk to Frankie.

"So," said a passing imaginary friend. He was tall and lanky, with green fur and a red top hat, "did you hear about about Frankie and Bob?" Mac stopped dead, following them,

"Yeah," said his companion. He was short, with puffy blue hair, and a single eye, walking on impossibly skinny black legs, "I saw her kissing his cheek with my own eye. You shoulda seen him blush; I thought he'd turn tomato." Mac spoke up,

"Please tell me you're kidding." said Mac, doing everything not to cry.

"No," said the blue bush, "I don't know how to lie." Just then, he heard more footsteps, and a voice: Frankie! Mac jumped into a closet, as Frankie talked into her cell phone,

"Yeah," she said, giggling, "I kissed him on the cheek. He blushed so hard, it was adorable. I wish you could have seen it." Well, no more evidence was needed. It was clear as day, straight from the very lips that kissed Bob, Frankie had found someone, and would never date Mac. Devastated and soul crushed, Mac ran out of Foster's, and didn't stop until he was back home. When he arrived, he shut the door to his room, and locked it behind him. He began to write an angry letter to Bob, when suddenly, the door swung open. There stood the last person he wanted to see right now: Terrence.

"What's up, baby bro," there was mischief in his voice, and a smirk on his face,

"The door was locked for a reason," said Mac, flatly, "what more do I need to do? Post a sign saying keep out, big stupid brother?" A very poor choice of words for Mac. Terrence stomped over to his desk,

"Whatcha writin' there?" he asked, and shoved Mac away, picking up the letter,

"Dear Bob,

How could you steal Frankie from me?" Terrence continued reading, in a mock sadness voice.

"Put that down!" Demanded Mac, but Terrence was enjoying this too much to obey. He pushed Mac away with his foot, and kept reading. When all of a sudden, a shrill voice sounded,

"TERRENCE, YOU GO TO YOUR ROOM, AND FORGET ABOUT DINNER!" Terrence put the letter down, walked away, grumbling as he went. Mac's mom focused on her younger son.

"Come with me," she said, and Mac followed her. They sat down on her bed,

"What was that about." Mac told her about what happened at foster's that day, and how he was writing that angry letter to mellow out.

"Honey," said his mother, "don't look at it that way. Instead of being upset that Frankie is with someone that isn't you, be happy. Be happy that Frankie found her special someone, and that she herself is happy." Mac hadn't looked at it that way. IT wasn't going to be easy, but Mac knew he had to let Frankie be happy, and find someone else.

But before he could thank his mother, there was the deafening sound of wood and metal giving way, and landing in pieces on the floor. There was the clatter of multiple footsteps, and then Terrance's voice yelling, "What the heck?!"

Men in charcoal gray suits stormed in, one of which dragged in Terrence, with a twelve caliber pistol to his head, as he sobbed and begged to be spared. Mac's mother gasped.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked, "what do you want? Money? Our TV? You can take what you want, just please don't kill us."

"Get over here," said one of them meanly, grabbed his mother and holding her against him, drawing a similar pistol and pointing it at her head.

Mac was getting ready to panic. He'd never been in this situation before. Another man came in, but he stood out like a sore thumb. He was tall, with broad shoulders, ebony hair on his head and face, and wore an ivory suit. He took a drag from a massive cigar, and puffed out a cloud of smoke like he was a dragon, even though it was a no smoking room. He then flicked the cigar all the way across the room and it landed in the trash can against the wall.

If he could flick a cigar that big across the room, with just his index finger in such a calm mood, Mac hated to think what he could do if he was angry. He looked around the room, "It's nice," he said, his voice clear, deep, and loud, and he was serenaded with a chorus of agreements from his men.

"Real nice," "Not too shabby," "I'd not mind living here." The man then stared down at Mac. His shades hid his eyes, but Mac wouldn't be surprised if there was ice in the stare. "I don't think the janitor would like cleaning blood today."

"He'd hate it," "Ruin his day," "What a rotten job for him."

"So," said the mob boss, "don't give him that job, young man. If you tell us where the one you know as Bob is, we'll leave, with no harm done to you or your family. I think you'd hate it too, if these nice carpets were covered in blood."

"You'd be none too happy," "A regular grump," "What a rain on your parade."

"I warn you," said the man, "my men have itchy trigger fingers, so don't take too long to give me what I need."

"Real itchy," "Might need lotion," "Too dry." Mac didn't like what he was about to do, but didn't want to see either his mom or brother die, even if Terrence was a major pain the butt.

"He lives and works at Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends."

"Thank you, young man." Said the man, "you've done me a big favor."

"Real big," "Ginormous," "Monumental."

"Come," said the boss to his men, "he lived up to his end of the deal, let's live up to ours." The men released their hostages and cleared out.

…

On the limo drive back to the hideout, the man pulled a titanium cell phone from his expensive suit pocket.

"Big J," he said into it, "how are you?"

"Good," said the voice on the other end,

"Splendid," said the boss, "listen, I have a favor."

"What shall it be?" asked the voice,

"Go to a place called Foster's home for imaginary friends. Find Bob, and if he's not there, make an offer they can't refuse, so they MUST send him to us."

"Yes sir."

"Good. Get to it." He hung up.

The next day at Foster's...

All was well at Foster's, when suddenly, the door flew across the foyer with the thunderous sound of wood smashed by a being of astronomical strength. He was tall, very muscular, and orange fur.

"Here's Joey," He said, and commenced terrorizing the house.

"I'm sorry," said Wilt, addressing him, "but that is definitely not okay." Joe found this annoying, grabbing Wilt by the neck,

"Shut it, Pencil Neck." He yelled, and threw him to the floor, leaving him gasping for air. Enraged, Eduardo sprinted towards him, head down and horns in a lethal position. Lethal, that is, to all except for Joe. He grabbed Ed by his horns and spun him around, before releasing him and tossing him through the wall. He rolled to a stop on the lawn, before spinning into unconsciousness.

Coco Laid an egg which unleashed a catapult that launched Bombs.

"Where is Bob?!" He demanded, returning the bomb to the sender. Coco was sent flying like a rag doll by the explosion. She survived, thankfully, with only minor injuries.

"Bob's not here," said a voice. It was Frankie, holding a mop like a staff.

"Oh," said Joe, pretending to turn and leave, but he switched direction and charged at Frankie. She tossed the mop like a javelin, but Joe merely caught it and threw it behind him, all without changing speed. He grabbed her around the neck. Madame Foster charged like a knight, but with a kick, she was sent flying into the wall, before she too, fell unconscious. Joe held his thumb into Frankie's neck. She struggled, for his thumb closed her windpipe.

She tried as hard as she could to pull it away, but it was like trying to move a giant boulder with a toothpick; unless you're Superman, it's impossible. Soon, with the oxygen not reaching her brain, she passed out.

"You killed her," said a voice behind her. Mac stood there, enraged.

"No," said the fiend, "she's alive, just passed out. Now if you want to see her alive again, you'll send Bob to the Marble Docks." And with that, Joe left. Thankfully, none of his victims died. It was like he was being careful.

Mac ran outside, trying to chase the figure, when all of a sudden, a huge bus pulled up.

Bob had been out changing the oil on the bus, so he was oblivious to the attack. When he pulled near the house, Eduardo was laying face down on the lawn.

"Oh no," said Bob, his worst fears confirmed. He parked the bus and ran to the purple giant. Rolling him gently to his back, he put his head on the behemoth's chest, before heaving a sigh of relief; a pulse. He noticed the splinters in Ed's face, and the huge hole in the wall. He ran inside, and he saw the carnage. Wilt was trying to breath again.

"Wilt," yelled Bob, running to the red giant.

"Oh," said Wilt, his voice raspy due to his damage throat, "you're here. WE just had a huge beast tear us all down. He got Eduardo, like you saw, and me. He also got Coco and Madame Foster." Foster limped down the stairs, and looked at Bob,

"He has Frankie," she said, before passing out due to her injuries. That was it. Bob was tired of running. IF it was a fight they wanted, so be it. They had sent a monster to damage the home, and with the girl he was falling for gone, it was the straw that broke the mule. If it was a fight they wanted, he'd grant their boon.

"They told us," said Mac, running in winded, "to send you to the marble docks."

"Then so be it," said Bob. He ran up to his room, and opened his dressor. He saw what he was looking for, and hid it under his shirt. He then took the Frankie's sedan keys from a coffee table and drove like a mad man down there.


End file.
